


Of Gunshots and Being Enough

by weareallmadeofstardust



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Angst, Mild Language, Stephanie Brown is Robin, Violence, i accidentally made a title pattern without realizing it, is clark ooc? i'm not sure, my response to the erasure of steph as robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 16:53:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18056402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weareallmadeofstardust/pseuds/weareallmadeofstardust
Summary: Stephanie Brown is Robin, but no one seems to believe it.





	Of Gunshots and Being Enough

**Author's Note:**

> "Let's write something about Stephanie's Robin run," I say, knowing absolutely nothing about Stephanie's Robin run.

The Gotham night was calm and quieter than usual, split only by Robin’s laugh as she tumbled through the air, cape flaring behind her. She landed on the rooftop beside Batman and lifted her arms in a gymnastics finish, grappling line winding automatically.

“Introducing… drumroll please… Robin, the Girl Wonder!” she announced. Oracle chuckled over the comms, and she even thought she saw Batman crack a smile.

“Alright, Girl Wonder,” Oracle said, and Steph could hear the smile in her voice. “Time to get to work. There’s a mugging in process over on Fourth.”

“Race you!” she yelled over her shoulder, shooting out her line again. She tilted her head back to feel the rush of the wind in her hair- sure, she’d done this a million times before, but that was with a hood on and when she wasn’t _Robin-_ and grinned when she saw Batman coming up on her right. No way was she going to let him win.

The mugging was simple, just a couple of two-bit thugs that had gotten too big for their britches- no difficulty for Batman and Robin. Then it was a couple of minutes of Batman helping to calm the would-be mugee while she kept an eye out for trouble. After that, it was back to the rooftops.

Oracle’s voice crackled across the comms again, with a tension that put Steph immediately on edge. “You’ve got-”

Then there was a rush of wind, and she finished, “-incoming.”

Superman- like, truth, justice and the American way, rescuing cats from trees, _that_ Superman- hovered in front of them, the bright colors of his costume looking out of place against the grime of Gotham. Although it wasn’t as if she could criticize, she supposed, as a walking traffic light.

“Superman,” Batman said, voice dropping into his “I Am The Night” growl, the one he used with criminals, which was kind of weird. Weren’t they friends? “What are you doing in Gotham?”

Superman didn’t answer, but instead asked, “New Robin?”

Steph tensed a bit. His tone was faintly sceptical, which she thought was _totally_ unfair. So maybe she hadn’t been doing this as long as Tim, but she could hold her own _and_ watch Batman’s back. It wasn’t even like she was the first one to be a successor. Or rather, replacement.

“Yes,” Batman said flatly, reply clipped like he didn’t want to be having this conversation. Superman clearly noticed, but he didn’t leave.

“Why?”  
“Things change,” Batman said, which wasn’t really an answer but he said it like it was.

Superman pursed his lips. “B-”

“Do you have an actual reason for being in Gotham?” he asked tersely, jaw set.

For a moment, Superman’s gaze drifted to Steph. It was almost calculating, the way he watched her, so she lifted her chin and met his stare through the domino lenses. After a moment, he looked back at Batman.

“You really think she’s good enough?” he asked, and his voice was so thick with disapproval that Steph’s jaw clenched. She took half a step forwards before Batman’s hand rested on her shoulder, heavy and warm even through the layers of armor.

_“Robin,”_ he said, “is perfectly capable, and I have faith in her skills. If you have nothing else to say, then leave. Metas aren’t welcome in Gotham.”

His voice was derisive, stare cold. The anger in it warmed Steph a little bit, the same way as the hand still resting on her shoulder. Superman stared at them for a second, then nodded and was gone in the same moment.

The rush of wind sent their capes swishing backwards, flapping against their legs. Steph expected Batman to let go of her shoulder as soon as he was gone- he was just trying to stop her punching him and breaking her hand, anyway- but he didn’t. It lingered, a steady, solid weight.

“B,” she said, looking down at the rooftop beneath their feet, at the black Robin boots that still made her do a double-take.

“Yes?”

“Did you, um,” she said, knotting her fingers. “Did you actually mean that?”

“That metas aren’t welcome in Gotham?” he asked. She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“No, I meant-”

“Stephanie,” he said softly, his hand sliding to rest against the back of her neck in a way that felt more like instinct than anything else. “I meant it.”

She finally looked up, and he was smiling faintly, face warm beneath the cowl. It warmed her even against the chill of the Gotham night, like a pinprick of sunlight spreading beneath her ribs.

“Really?” she asked, voice shaking the slightest bit.

“Really.” His voice was warm, and she wondered if this was the side of him that he showed to Tim, and Dick, and Cass. That he showed to his kids.

She hoped it was.

After a long moment, his hand slid away, and she found herself missing it almost as soon as it was gone. Still, she couldn’t help but grin when he pulled out his grappling gun and smirked at her. “Race you.”

She yelled at his back, “First one there gets to drive the Batmobile!” before swinging to catch up with him. His laughter felt like it was buoying her, setting a balloon of happiness swelling in her chest. The Gotham air ruffled her hair, and Batman was at her side, and she was _Robin,_ and everything was perfect.

* * *

Robin’s voice crackled over the comm as Batman moved towards the warehouse. “Okay, be honest with me. Are they _trying_ to be cliche? I mean, an abandoned warehouse. Really? How much more stereotypical can you get?”

The corner of Batman’s mouth tugged up in a smile, not that he’d ever admit it to her. “Focus, Robin. Remember-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill,” she interrupted him. “Stay back until you signal, don’t get in over my head, yadda yadda.”

“Make sure you do,” Batman said gruffly. “We don’t know what we’re walking into here.”

He heard her scoff over the comm, but didn’t bother reprimanding her. Instead he asked, “Oracle?”

“Afraid I’ve got nothing, B.” The clatter of keys echoed over the microphone. “There’s no working cameras in there anymore, if there ever was. Your cowl is reading nine heat signatures, but other than that you’re going in blind. I can’t even tell you if Two-Face is in there.”

“Hrm,” he said to himself. “I’m going in.”

“Be careful,” Oracle told him.

He didn’t bother to give his assent, just grunted and started to move.

The building seemed abandoned, but the sensor in his cowl noticed nine heat signatures and the murmur of conversation, just as Barbara had told him. And if a piece of tech designed by Barbara Gordon told him that the building wasn’t abandoned, the building wasn’t abandoned.

Still, he wasn’t prepared when he slipped inside. Two-Face clearly knew he was coming, the burnt half of his face grinning at him as he slipped inside. Batman froze.

“Batman,” Two-Face said smugly, voice like gravel. “Who would have thought.”

“Who won?”

A laugh spilled out of the man, harsh and grating and filling the darkness. A moment later, the faint light glinted off the barrel of a pistol aimed at him. “What do _you_ think?”

He paused. A moment later, Robin’s voice asked, “Batman? Should I move in?”

He didn’t respond, still trying to calculate a way to get out of his current predicament. _Two-Face is the most immediate threat. Have to avoid getting surrounded. Do the henchmen have guns? Unclear but probable. Have to-_

“Batman?”

“Don’t enter,” Oracle ordered, likely accessing his cowl feed. “You’d just be in danger.”

“Uh, does that mean…”

Robin’s voice was interrupted by Two-Face sneering, “Where’s the little bird, Bats? Leave him home tonight?”

“Maybe,” Batman replied.

Two-Face’s eyes narrowed, and he growled in the back of his throat. “Lights out, Batman.” There was no chance to move.

The gunshot echoed in the space, and in almost the same moment there was a blazing pain in his abdomen. The bullet had struck true, and so did the second and third.

He couldn’t stop the reflexive gasp, or the way his knees buckled. He hit the floor hard, but he could hear Robin asking, “Batman? _Batman!”_

He couldn’t respond, just listened as she demanded, “Tell me what just happened or I’m coming in.”

Two-Face strode towards him, eyes full of a maniac gleam, and crowed, “You’re finished. You’re not getting out of this one.”

“Alright, that’s it,” Robin muttered, and he could hear scuffling from her end of the line. “I know I’m going against orders, but honestly I could care less.”

The gun was aimed at him again, floating up out of the darkness. His blurry vision focused on it, a metallic shine in the gloom.

“You know, they said that no one could kill you.” Two-Face was triumphant, standing over him, gun holding steady towards his head. “The immortal Bat. They theorized that you weren’t even _human._ Shoot you, beat you, you just stand up and walk it off. That’s why the clown went for your bird.”

At Two-Face’s words, Batman’s heartbeat kicked up a notch, pounding through his veins. The blood roared in his ears, and it sounded like a drumbeat against his skull, like _Jason Jason Jason._ And even though he was back, even though his son was prowling the streets with a gun in hand, it still felt as raw and fresh as the day he pulled his body out of the rubble, bloodied and cooling and far too small.

He growled, forcing himself to lift his head and glare at the man above him, even though it made his muscles scream and vision white out in pain. Two-Face just laughed.

“That’s what they all thought. But I knew better.”

His finger tensed around the trigger.

“Goodnight, Batman.”

Batman closed his eyes. It was ironic, he thought, that a gun would be both the start of his career and the end. The same thing that send him down this path would be the thing to cut it short.

The pain he was expecting didn’t come.

Instead, there was an explosion of noise nearby, and he forced his eyes open just in time to see a figure drop in and slam feet first into Two-Face, knocking him away, before landing in a crouch. Robin.

Two-Face growled, getting to his feet slowly, as one half of his face scowled and the other winced in pain. “You little-”

He paused. “You’re not Robin.”

“Afraid you’re mistaken,” she replied lightly, although he could hear the undercurrent of worry in her tone. “I’m Robin, the girl wonder.”

She bowed, apparently oblivious to the way the henchmen in the shadows trained guns on her. Two-Face burst out laughing, harsh and grating.

“They just keep declining in quality, don’t they?” he asked, looking over to Batman. “The old one was better. She doesn’t look like much of a threat.”

Robin’s calm, playful facade dropped, and she snapped, “Well, too bad. Because this Robin is going to be the one to _kick your ass.”_

Two-Face laughed, lifting one hand dismissively. “Kill her.”

Before he was done talking, though, she was already in the air, out of the way before the henchmen started firing. Batman noted with some relief that they seemed to be novices, worse than Two-Face normally employed- none of them thought to aim towards where she would be, only where she was.

Batarangs came flying out of the darkness, and grunts of pain filled the warehouse as they found their marks. Robin dropped behind one of them, taking him down in a matter of seconds, and then chaos exploded.

Batman lost track of her for a few moments, view obscured by the thugs and the gathering haze in his vision as blood pulsed out of his stomach- the design of the armor was working to slow the bleeding, but not enough- so he just listened to the yells of the thugs as she took them down. Two-Face was yelling something, inaudible over the din, but Batman was more concerned about the cry of pain he heard from Robin.

“Come on,” he muttered, words slurred with pain and blood loss.

After what could have been seconds or minutes, Robin resurfaced, breathing harsh and blood trickling from a split lip. She wiped it from her mouth with the back of her gauntlet and glared at Two-Face.

“Still sure I’m not the real Robin?” she asked, unfaltering.

Two-Face started to clap, slow and sarcastic. “Well done, little girl. You took out a handful of half-trained thugs that the _real_ dynamic duo could do in their sleep. I’m impressed.”

“Keep talking, Two-Face,” she replied, sliding a batarang into one hand. “I’m not listening.”

“Dress-up is a dangerous game, girl,” the villain warned, and for a moment he almost sounded sincere. “Go home. I won’t tell you again.”

“Good,” she remarked. “I won’t have to listen to you.” 

Then they were moving, Two-Face pulling out a gun as Robin threw the batarang and rolled to the side in one movement. The bullet went over her head, and the batarang went wide as Two-Face dodged.

The second didn’t, though, knocking the gun from his hand, and she capitalized on the advantage by moving in close- too close for him to pull out the second gun hidden in his coat. There was a blur of motion, and Batman swallowed hard.

Robin was doing her best, and she was a strong fighter- fueled by the same fire that sent Batman onto the streets night after night. Still, Harvey Dent- or the creature he’d become- was stronger than anyone he’d seen her face. Stronger than a mugger, or petty thugs, or Cluemaster. Robin was doing her best, he knew- but it might not be enough.

A gunshot echoed through the air, and Robin yelled. Batman struggled to sit up, but a piercing pain in his abdomen and his vision whiting out made him lie back with a groan.

His head was spinning, and for a moment he could swear he heard Clark saying, _You really think she’s good enough?_ He’d said yes. And he’d believed that, still did- but as he heard the thud of blows, there was still an itch under his skin telling him to _get up._ To not let her fight this alone and take the chance of losing.

“You don’t measure up,” Two-Face’s voice snarled. “You think you’re Robin? Get a grip. You should just stick to the purple.”

“I _am_ Robin!” she shouted, and there was the sound of a batarang slicing through the air and then a roar of pain. A body fell to the ground, and there was silence. The seconds stretched out.

Finally, footsteps rushed over to him, too quick and light to be Two-Face. Then Robin’s face appeared in front of him, lip dripping with blood and one eye blackened behind the domino, golden hair wild around her face.

“Batman,” she gasped. “Talk to me. Are you awake?”

“Yes,” he rasped.

Her face broke into a smile, and Robin melted away the same moment Batman did, leaving them just Stephanie and Bruce.

She knelt beside him, hands going to his stomach, and then she hissed through her teeth. “I need to bandage this and then get us out of here.”

“Two-Face?” he asked, voice weaker than he’d like.

“Restrained and O is calling the GCPD. You’ve, uh, lost a lot of blood. Can you stand?”

He tried to push himself to his feet, but he’d barely shifted before collapsing back to the ground with a groan. Stephanie nodded, then pulled a bandage out of her belt and pressed against the holes in his stomach, still sluggishly oozing blood. He choked on a yell.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“Stephanie,” he gasped, even though it hurt to speak. It was- or at least felt- important, to tell her this. She looked up. “You did- did well. Robin.”

She grinned at him, bright and earnest. “I- thanks. Thanks, B. We’d better get out of here before the police come.”

He nodded, and she heaved one of his arms over her shoulder, half-carrying him out to where Oracle had remotely parked the Batmobile. And as she rambled on about how _heavy he was, jeez, Bats,_ there was a creeping contentment despite the pain making him feel faint.

Stephanie Brown was Robin, just as much as Tim had been. She was strong enough to take what Gotham threw at them with a quip and a determined grin, and it didn’t matter how many people questioned her. They both knew the truth- she was Robin, and nothing and no one could take that away.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments welcomed and appreciated!


End file.
